“Have you ever wondered why Willow was never around Hazel? She came back into her life when she needed money.” He rubs the tips of his hand together. “Once she’s back on her feet, she’ll jet off and leave everyone behind. You included.”
“You haven’t given her a chance.”
“The question is why are you so obsessed with relationships?” His tone isn’t just curious, it sounds like some sort of accusation. “At least look for someone who won’t take advantage of you.”
“I can take care of myself. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not twelve anymore.”
“Then behave like an adult, and I’ll treat you like one.”
“How about being fucking supportive instead of judgmental?”
“You have my support. I’ll be in my office waiting to catch you when you fall apart. It appears that’s the only time you come to me.”
Keep waiting, Scotty.
She needs me as much as I need her. We are essential to each other. She’ll never leave me.
I check my watch, walk to my desk and grab the instructions I have for Fitz’s assistant. She has to help me with Willow’s birthday surprises. That’s the only way to make it special while I’m working. “If that’s all, Scott. I have work to do. Go and wait for me to fail.”
“Hunt,” he calls out to me, but I flip him the finger and continue to walk away.
FINALLY FREE
Realizing none of it was real, she set herself free.
~ Katlyn Charlesworth
Willow
TODAY IS NOT a good day. Generally, it’s one of the worst. I wish this day were over. Just as much as I fear six o’clock will come, and I’ll feel lonelier than I do right now. At the moment, the continuous traffic coming and going into the offices keeps my mind off my birthday and focused on directing the packages and visitors to the right place. Pathetic. This stagnant place is about to become my life sentence. From temporary receptionist to a full-time employee for Beesley Enterprises. My agent quit yesterday. Like my former roommate, she’s leaving for LA.
When I asked if she could continue to represent me, she explained her new vision is the small screen. Streaming movies and independent shows. Who is she? She didn’t spell it out, but we both know I’m out of the scene. I’m too old to make it into a Broadway show. Hazel insists I have to keep trying. If this is my destiny and what makes me happy, I can’t give up now. Plenty of actors and actresses don’t make it big until their thirties.
“Why don’t you go back to school, Wills?” She had mentioned over the phone last night. After our heated discussion on Monday, I’ve tried to call her and be more proactive. “We can help you with the tuition.”
Poor kid, she believes everyone is as charitable as her. Hasn’t she learned from what happened to her last month? She asked our grandfather to let her transfer to Columbia, but he declined. The man will only pay for her grad school if she continues studying at Duke, where he graduated. I doubt he’ll pay for some stupid classes to entertain my hobby. That’s what my career is becoming, an expensive diversion. Twenty-seven years old, as of today, and I don’t have a house, a job I enjoy, a retirement plan, or a five-year plan.
I laugh, realizing I don’t have a one-week plan.
Compared to my younger sister, I’m a failure. She has a college degree, a big office, a team under her supervision, a house in Raleigh where she studies for her master’s degree in business. Since high school, she’s been planning her future. I have seen her five-year plan which she updates accordingly. Who the fuck is that organized? Not me.
How am I supposed to show my grandfather I’m worth keeping around when I can’t be like her?
I’m a mess. My sister is right, something inside me destroys what little I achieve. Only a few weeks ago I was on the verge of drowning. Poor Hunter, he stayed with me while I curled around my useless suffering and cried myself to sleep. That man is a saint. He’s my savior. All I have. I ask myself daily how long he’ll stay. Checking my phone for the fifth time in the past hour, I worry. He hasn’t texted me all day, nor called. “Trust me,” he said. Yet, he disappeared on me. I’m trying my best to stay strong, controlling the deeply insecure woman inhabiting my body.
Last night he called to say there was a problem with a case. Today, he didn’t text or call. My parents haven’t reached out to me—no surprise there, they don’t give a shit about me. Their mantra is, fuck Willow.
Why is today a Wednesday?
Hazel won’t be here until tomorrow night. She has called and emailed me. Though, it’s not the same. My grandfather is away on a business trip with Fitzhenry Everhart. Does he know about today? Yes, Grant knows everything, even the most insignificant details of my life. He plans accordingly to avoid what disgusts him. He’s making it clear with his actions I don’t belong near him. I’m broken. So far, he hasn’t complained about my outburst. He’s so understanding. How long will he accept who I am before he suggests I change?
You don’t belong anywhere.
I do. Of course, I do. I belong with Hunter. If only Hunter were here everything would be so much better. He would listen to me.
Am I becoming too dependent on him?
Some days it feels as if my entire existence hangs by the thread of his attention. He’s the anchor preventing me from drifting away. I hang onto his every heartbeat, his aroma, that low voice, and those blue eyes as deep as the ocean. He reminds me so much of the water I wanted to disappear into so long ago. Is this what my life is now? My breaths match his. It’s as though I only exist because of him.
As the clock announces that it is six in the evening, I text him.
WILLOW: Should I wait for you?
I wait about ten minutes while I sit at my desk, but no answer comes through. My body shakes as I fight the embarrassment of calling his office. This is an emergency. He gave me the number in case I couldn’t find him. His assistant answers right away, assuring me that when he’s done with his appointments for the day he’ll call me. She has orders for him not to be interrupted by anyone.
“I’m not just anyone, I’m Willow, his girlfriend,” I clarify. She seems to not have any knowledge of who I am and the reason for my call. “Hasn’t he mentioned me?”
“Dear, you’re no special snowflake if that’s what you think.” She chuckles, her indifference poking into the already sore spots. Pain beginning to surface. “Last week it was someone named Anna, three weeks ago Henrietta, next week might be a Stacy or Katherine. Who knows? He finds them faster than they disappear.”
I go mute, what is happening?
This can’t possibly be true. Not Hunter, he’s one of the good guys.
“This week it’s Jordan. I think you missed your week, dear.” I imagine him sitting in a restaurant with this Jordan. She’s tall and elegant with long, fiery hair and expressive eyes. That’s where he was last night, having sex with his new flavor.
“What did I do wrong?” I mumble. “I did everything right.”
“All of you are the same,” the woman on the other side responds. “Give it up and move on, dear. Be with someone who will let you use him.”
Just now, I notice that I forgot to hang up and let her inside my thoughts. How fucking stupid am I? Of course, he used me while I kept him interested. Once we started having sex, he lost interest. The new reality shows itself to me. The wound inside my heart reopens, oozing negativity and fear. All the negativity I have been working so hard to keep away traps me into a ball. His rejection is suffocating me.
The need to release the pain burns my skin.
Every second that passes I’m shaking more. My skin is heating up. I want to peel it off me. Running away from the building, I hurry to my grandfather’s house. The entire trip is a blur of people pushing me away, cars honking, and the doorman calling after me. I don’t stop. They can’t see what’s happening. The release is only a few floors away. Entering my grandfather’s place, I go to my en suite bathroom, finding the kit I’ve hidden.
Openi
ng the metal lid, I find the small, thin, razor. A voice says not to do it. This feels like a relapse, a step backward from everything I promised myself I’d be after the time my roommate saw me drunk and slashed apart. But I need to let everything escape from my system. Hazel’s small voice asking me not to leave her is what pushes the edge of the blade deep into my skin. Letting everything go will keep me floating until I reach the shore. She’s my person. The only one who wants me around. Desperately, I continue tracing lines on my legs, my stomach and enjoy the oozing of the blood flowing outside my body along with the pain—the copper smell calming my troubled mind.
If I don’t let it out, I might die. Today wasn’t any different from all the other shitty birthdays I’ve had. I recall that first birthday when my mother decided to cancel it because I touched the frosting on the cake. Dad called the few people that were coming and took her away to her room. I ended up watching Hazel who was only two years old. After that, I never asked for a party. I tried to stay quiet when she said she needed silence. Everything to keep Mommy happy, to ensure that she loved me.
I feel dizzy from drawing so many lines, but I’m happy as the weight on my chest leaves. My worries levitating with it. My mind starts wandering, I see myself flying and I stand up on my weak limbs. They carry me to the balcony. Pushing the doors open, I imagine the wonderful feel of letting the wind carry me. I want to fly and let the air purify me. No more pain, no more uncertainty, no more rejection or loneliness. I can be myself. Who am I? Do I recall who I was before I tried to make every person I know happy?
Shaking, I continue my way to the railing. It’s too far for me to reach. The cold air hits me hard. My eyes start closing, and I feel like I’m falling into the blackness. Free at last.
STAY STRONG
You don’t know how strong you are until you have to be strong.
~ Anonymous
Hunter
BEING AN INTERNATIONAL law firm keeps us on top of the competition. Unfortunately, it also means long hours spent in the office. Days consumed by meetings in the conference room, negotiating with our clients who are often on the other side of the world. For more than twenty-four hours, I’ve been working on a merger. Finally, I’ve closed on a deal that will bring millions to my client. To me, it brings me closer to the position where I become a full-time partner. Being part of Everhart & Everhart is far from what everyone believes. Fitz checks all my moves and corrects me when he doesn’t agree on the routes I take. That’s how it’ll be until I prove I can hold my own.
Checking my watch, I notice there’s not much time to waste. We have reservations, and I need to see my woman. Before I do anything else, I grab my phone to call her, but it’s dead. Why didn’t I notice this? Fuck, I haven’t talked to my girl all day. How is she dealing with her birthday? Fuck, I wish Hazel was in town.
Calm the fuck down, Everhart. She’s okay. We agreed to communicate with each other, if she needed me, she could’ve just contacted the office. Her dark days are over.
You’re right, I shouldn’t worry so much. We’ve been in a good place for several days. Hazel has said they can last for months.
Shutting down my laptop, I carry my stuff from the conference room to my office. I put away my things and lock my door. If I hurry, we should be able to make it for the seven thirty reservations I have at Le Bernardin. Jensen should have picked up the cake I ordered. We also have a reservation at the Four Seasons. We are spending the night, and hopefully the rest of the week in there making love. Not losing time, I go into Fitz’s office to use his shower and take a suit out of his collection. For the first time, I realize the convenience of his office. In record time, I’m ready and driving down Park Avenue. During the drive, my phone was charging.
Casper, the doorman, holds my keys and tells me she arrived about thirty minutes ago. He gives me access to the penthouse. Once I step into the elevator, my phone starts buzzing. One text after another appear. Willow asking if I’m coming for lunch. How long has my phone been dead? Another is checking if we are seeing each other today. Finally, the last one freezes my heart.
WILLOW: I told you not to play with me. It hurts so much. I can’t bear it. Goodbye, Hunter.
Why did she text this?
The doors of the elevator open. Everything is quiet. I see the balcony doors are standing ajar. A chilly breeze taking over the place.
“Willow, baby, where are you?” I call out while looking around, going toward her bedroom. My heart thumps wildly.
The trail of clothes begins with her shoes, continues with her pants, and the white blouse are next to a box inside the bathroom.
“Willow!” I yell, staring at the red-terracotta prints, a razor, and bloodstains all over the bathroom. As I start looking around, I find a trail of copper drops coming from the hallway. How did I miss this? My heart pounds against my chest. I rush, following the trail like cookie crumbs left behind by a child who wanted to be found in the dark forest. The cold air hits my face as I step outside. It keeps me from losing my shit. The fear increases when I see her. Laying on the floor, pale with streaks of dark, red blood covering her. I find her broken, alone, with wounds drawn on every part of her skin. My chest explodes. My legs become jelly and my entire body trembles. Anxiety creeps into my mind. Finding the memories, I wish I can forget. Burning my insides as I see her lifeless, broken body.
I take her in my arms. Pressing what’s left of the woman I love and who left me. “I tried everything to keep you. What else did you want from me?” I scream at her, at God, and anyone who can hear it. “Don’t take her away from me!”
The strength I have helps me to carry her inside the house. Looking at what is left of her breaks my heart, and I cry.
I cry for the loss of a caring and misunderstood woman.
I cry for myself.
I cry for her family.
I cry for the future we will never have.
I feel like fire is burning my insides.
“Why did you leave me?” I whisper in her ear, kissing her cold body.
My stomach twists, my body shakes, and I’m on the verge of breaking down. Until that beat I like to listen to at night throbs weakly against my chest. She’s still with me.
Acting immediately, I rush to her room, wrapping her in a blanket. The nearest hospital is less than half a mile from here. Deciding it’s faster for me to take her there, I rush out of the building. As I see the traffic, I decide to go by foot.
“Sir, is everything okay?” The doorman asks.
“No, call Mr. Beesley.”
My legs find the strength and speed to carry her down Park Avenue. The pedestrians move aside as I continue to yell for them to move out of the way. “Emergency, coming through.” A block later I have two guys pushing the crowd in front of me.
“Where to, man?”
“Lenox,” I say not stopping, urging Willow to stay with me, to keep fighting.
Entering the ER, a team of nurses are already waiting with a stretcher. Another person had sped to the hospital announcing our arrival.
“Good luck, man,” one of them wishes me, patting my shoulder.
“Leave your name with the nurses at reception, please. Tell them it’s for Hunter Everhart,” I tell all of them as I set Willow on the stretcher.
“What happened?” The thundering round of questions begins. Date of birth, where did I find her. My relationship with her. I lie and say she’s my wife. They push her away to a small room and start working on her. Willow’s hand is weak, but she doesn’t let me go.
“And you just happened to find her like this?” I don’t know who asks the question, but they look at each other and one of them leaves. “Where?”
“On the balcony, unconscious. I thought I’d lost her,” I mumble, kissing the top of her head. “We had a date. She waited for me at her grandfather’s home.”
I hear self-inflicted wounds, a few need stitches while others only need cleaning. They ask if I found anything out of the ordinary.
&nb
sp; Are they fucking kidding me? “Do you think this is ordinary?”
“How long have you been married?” One of the nurses narrows her eyes at me suspiciously.
“Almost two weeks, spur of the moment,” I say, narrating our fake wedding. Dropping on one knee and proposing with candy. Going on our honeymoon here, in the heart of New York. I just don’t disclose that we had been pretending all of that and that we were supposed to be Californians.
“What can you tell me about the old scars?” One of them asks as she starts an IV on her left arm.
Exhaling harder, I shake my head. There’s nothing I can say. We haven’t been having sex for long. I wasn’t comfortable asking about them. Today is a fucking disaster. She trusted me to make it special. The best. The one time she was happy about her birthday, and I failed her. But, she didn’t call me when things began to break inside her head.
“I understand you haven’t known each other for long, but has she communicated any suicidal thoughts to you?”
Everything shifts as I repeat the question inside my head.
“Never.” I’m stoic. The voice isn’t my own. I want to run away, but I look down at the woman I brought in, and I can’t.
They continue to talk. Insisting on learning about her mental health. I have zero answers for them. It frustrates me to not have them. My questions are different from theirs. What now? This is bigger than me. I’m already broken. She broke the pieces of my heart into smaller ones. I thought I’d lost her.
Running a hand through my hair, I berate myself for not listening to my brothers. Willow can’t make it through with just my help. She needs a professional to navigate her through whatever goes on inside her head. I don’t understand what she needs. We’ve talked for hours at night. She will write a book on my back about what’s bothering her, unloading. I tried my best to make today special. Her birthday was a sensitive day for her. I’ve tried. The flowers I sent her every hour weren’t enough. What else does she need?
The sound of a whimper resonates inside the room. I squeeze her hand.
All of You All of Me Page 13